


To Know Happiness

by j_gabrielle



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, happy feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2424248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jim ruffles his hair as he releases him, quietly happy that he is one of he few persons Bruce allows to touch this way. "Hey you." Alfred chuckles, pausing in his cooking to tilt his head for a kiss. Bruce makes a nauseated face, rolling his eyes. "Be quiet." Alfred chides, no heat to his voice. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Bruce smirks at them, returning his focus to his homework.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Know Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> I should be studying for my final paper. But I am not. So I give you this instead.

Jim lets himself in with his key, weariness setting in his bones as he pushes the door open. Hanging his coat at the coat rack, he loosens his tie, toeing off his shoes. The feeling of being home envelopes him, and he sighs, glad to be done with the day. Voices carry from the kitchen, the sounds making him smile as he shed his dress shirt.

"Hey there you two." He says, walking up to Bruce at the breakfast bar and Alfred laughing at something Bruce said. 

Bruce grins as they exchange their secret handshake, squirming as Jim pulls him in for a kiss to the side of his head. "Hi Jim." Bruce mumbles from where his face is pressed against his shoulder.

Jim ruffles his hair as he releases him, quietly happy that he is one of he few persons Bruce allows to touch this way. "Hey you." Alfred chuckles, pausing in his cooking to tilt his head for a kiss. Bruce makes a nauseated face, rolling his eyes. "Be quiet." Alfred chides, no heat to his voice. 

Bruce smirks at them, returning his focus to his homework. "How was your day?" Jim asks, washing his hands at the sink. Reaching into the cupboards, he takes out their plates and glasses. "Anything exciting happened?"

"Well..." Bruce begins, launching into his story about Selina and the girl a year above them. Jim shakes his head at the details of his tale, laughing slightly when Bruce describes the way the girl had squealed at the sight of a dead rat.

"I think that's about enough stories of dead rats and pranks on bullies." Alfred says curtly, serving up their dinner at the little table by the windows. "Put your books away and wash your hands." He waits until Bruce is in his room before sighing, "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Miss Selina Kyle." Alfred says, untying his apron. "The girl Bruce has been talking about every night for the past month. He seems... Smitten."

Jim blinks, hands stopping halfway at setting the table. "Alfred, are you thinking about giving Selina Kyle the shovel talk?"

"What? No! Of course not." Alfred sputters, turning away to the refrigerator. "Why ever would I want to do that?" He says, laughing.

"Then why the sudden mention of Miss Kyle?" Jim asks. He watches as Alfred fold his arms together in an act of nonchalance, leaning back against the corner of the table. 

"Bruce doesn't make friends easily. Product of his Wayne upbringing, I suppose." Alfred shrugs. Jim sets the last fork down, straightening himself to face Alfred. The quiet pensiveness on Alfred's face is one that he has not sported in a while. "He's never been one to... Connect. Not to others. Not with people he doesn't particularly care for."

"Are you trying to say that you're happy that Bruce made a friend?" Jim grins, reaching out to lay his hands on Alfred's shoulders. When the older man does not immediately answer, he pulls him close with a soft chuckle. "It'll be fine. Bruce making friends is a good thing. It is nothing to worry about."

"If you say so." Alfred answers gruffly. They both hold each other close, remembering the way Bruce had been in the beginning after his parent's death; lost, angry, defiant, wasting away in a sea of hatred, fear and lust for revenge. Alfred had always thought Thomas and Martha would live until a ripe old age, always imagined that they would live long enough to see their son finish school, settle down, run their Foundation with them, hold their grandchild in their arms. 

Jim nuzzles his nose against Alfred's cheek, pressing a chaste kiss. "We're doing good, yeah?" Alfred asks, hands fisted in the fabric of his under-shirt.

"We're doing great." Jim reassures him. Unwrapping his hands around Alfred he steals another kiss, humming happily as he feels him respond. "Save it for the bedroom." He murmurs, placing his hand at Alfred's nape.

"Ew."

They separate, blushing slightly at the sight of Bruce wrinkling his nose at them from the doorway. "Get a room!" He cries, taking his place at the table. 

"That was our plan." Jim quips, sliding into his seat. Smirking at the blush creeping up Alfred's neck he turns to Bruce, quickly checking that the other man was still busy finishing up his potatoes, he reaches into his pocket, sliding a little blue box over to Bruce. "What do you think?" He asks nervously, voice quiet as the boy opens it.

"I think it's about time." Bruce says, sliding it back to him. There's a soft happiness in his eyes, pleased and content. "When are you asking him?" 

"Tonight. Hopefully." 

Bruce nods, young eyes solemn as they hold his gaze. "Take care of him. He deserves nothing but the best."

Jim nods, a swelling emotion rising to a crescendo in him, swallowing. He opens his mouth to speak, when Alfred comes over, setting his dish. "What are you two mumbling about?"

"Jim just asked if Selina would like to come over for dinner on Friday. Didn't you?" Bruce lies smoothly.

"Y-yeah I did." He clears his throat. "I'd like to meet her."

Alfred throws him his best look of disbelief. "That sounds nice. Do tell me in advance so that I may be able to prepare something." He turns to reach for the pitcher of water.

Jim nudges Bruces leg under the table, breaking out in a smile when he feels Bruce retaliating. An all out foot war breaks out before Alfred sits down next to him, turning on the television to last night's Chelsea match. "Oi, you two. You know the rules." Is all he says, and they quiet down, smirking conspiratorially at each other.

The voice of the commentator and start of the game fill the space of the kitchen, intermingling with short requests to pass the food. Jim looks around him, feeling the weight of the box in his pocket, thinking that this should be what happiness feels like.

 

[end.]

 


End file.
